Jamie Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by Epic Hero Laugh
Summary: What if Harry had a twin sister, Jamie Rose Potter who was raised at the Dursleys? What would be different? What wouldn't be? This story is being fixed, cause the writing NEEDED improvement! It's still technically complete though :D
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing I wish I did. All I own is Jamie.

Halloween, 1981

James Potter looked down at the small 15 month old small girl lying asleep on the couch. He was not fit to be a father; he definitely wasn't fit to be a role model. He was an arrogant, big-headed prat for most of his time at Hogwarts. At least Lily could be a good role model. The small girl next to him looked so much like her, but there was a lot of him in Jamilyn, or Jamie for short. Jamie had his eyes and value of friends. She seemed more into Quidditch than Harry was. Her Uncle Padfoot had bought Jamie and Harry both toy broomsticks. Jamie was much more excited about the broom than Harry had been.

Harry thought James with a sigh, He was so proud of both of his children, but Harry was the spitting image of James already. His eyes were Lily's eyes though. This was the most peaceful Halloween ever. There were no trick-or-treaters, but Sirius was coming later, so it wouldn't be a total loss. Lily came downstairs with Harry, and the second James could see Harry, Jamie woke up with a "Hawwy!"

James and Lily shared another of their many laughs. They all ate dinner with some definite Halloween candy and James made multi-colored smoke come out of his wand for Jamie and Harry. Suddenly James straightened. Something was wrong. And then the door burst open…


	2. The Girl who LivedKind of

…The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters _were _involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect _them_…

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.

He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall

All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."

She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." "I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really _has _gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore.

"We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

A _what_?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has _gone —"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_."

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name." "I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort_, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too — well —_noble _to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the _rumors _that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're _saying_," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters.

The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — _dead_."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry.

But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's — it's _true_?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why _you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and his sister to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean – you _can't _mean the people who live _here_?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. The Potter children come and live here!"

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when they're older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?

These people will never understand them, especially him! He'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future — there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name! They might even know his sister's name, and she wasn't even the one who defeated him! "

Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, they both will be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how are they getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Jamie underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them."

"You think it —_wise _— to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so _wild _— long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding two bundles of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got 'em, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got 'em out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol. She's still awake though. Not a single cry"

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bigger bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.

Then they looked in the smaller bundle."Jesus Christ, "gasped Professor McGonagall."It's Lily's twin. They look the same."

Well — give them here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry and Jamie in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I — could I say good-bye to 'em, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss, Jamie also got a scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry and Jamie off ter live with Muggles —"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid them gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.

For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Jamie Potter looked up at the trees. She did not understand what they were. She had barely even seen a tree before. A black shape blotted out the moon for a moment. A leering face appeared in the darkness. A wild, inhumane woman's face. She was stared at by heavy-lidded eyes and was even reached toward. The hand was a foot away when it stopped. A scream was muffled by another hand being wrapped around the dark face. Then they were gone. She turned to face Harry, and with a small sigh, fell asleep.


	3. The snake and the glass

**I felt horrible about how BAD this was, so I fixed this up. I didn't bother doing that last chapter because it was more of a filler and everyone knows what it says anyway. Enjoy a chapter that probably makes a bit more sense. :D**

Jamie woke with a start. "Up! Get up! Now!" screamed Aunt Petunia. "Make chocolate-chip-pancakes for Dudley NOW! Everything must be perfect for his birthday!" Jamie swore under her breath. 'He doesn't deserve a birthday' she thought.

"What was that you said?" Was the angry question from the sharp-eared woman.

"Nothing."

Jamie got dressed, hitting her elbows on the door of the broom closet. Not the outside, the inside. Her elbows were always bruised from waking up in that blasted broom closet, you know, cause she slept there. She hit her elbows even more than usual because of the horrible dream she had had. A horrible face had looked at her through a lot of green light. It sadly was a recurring dream. She shuddered and hit her head on the door.

Jamie exited, rubbing her sore head and went to the kitchen. Harry was already in there, frying bacon. She hugged him and set to work. He was the only thing keeping her sane in this house. She guessed he had been woken up the same way, but he probably hadn't swore. He was a lot shyer. Harry was slightly shorter than Jamie, though both were pretty short. He had black hair and green eyes. He had this scar on his forehead. It was amazingly cool-looking, shaped like a lightning bolt and all, but it seemed evil, and Jamie was glad his hair covered it.

Jamie looked different. She had red hair. Bright, long, and wavy red hair. And Hazel eyes, really really big though. She supposed she would grow into them. And she had had a lot of growth spurts lately too. It was kind of nice to be taller than Harry for once. The only scar she had was a curvy kinda crescent-moon-ish shaped one on her cheek. But this wasn't as evil-feeling. It still was evil though, so she tried anything to cover it up. Her hair seemed to listen, and the wave in her hair would always cover it.

She supposed she had gotten it the night her parents had died in that car crash. She remembered fear for Harry, but not much else. There was something off about that story about the car crash though… I mean, how could Harry get such a definite lightning bolt from a car? It wasn't likely.

"Brush that hair," Was Jamie's morning greeting from her Uncle. She felt soooo special.

"It might help if I had a hairbrush," Jamie countered. She was then saved by her cousin Dudley waddling into the kitchen. He looked very much like a blond gorilla, or as Harry said, a pig in a wig. Her Aunt Petunia thought he looked like a baby angel. Jamie personally thought that having to look at Uncle Vernon's fat face, body and lack of neck, which were all purple, had made her lose some of her eyesight. At least she would have thought that if she had not seen her Aunt's blond head peeking at her neighbors over the fence, utilizing her long neck. Gossip-monger.

Jamie had lived here, with purple Uncle Vernon, pale Aunt Petunia, pink/red cousin Dudley, and normal-colored brother Harry since her parents had died when she was a year old. She was almost eleven, so for almost ten long and miserable years she had lived with the Dursleys, praying for an unknown relation to come take her and Harry away.

"Gimme a mickey mouse one," wailed the blond gorilla that would soon be a blond whale.

"You've forgotten the magic word Dinky Duddydums."

Uncle Vernon stood up. "GO TO YOUR CLOSET!"

"What?"

"NOW!"

Jamie trudged to the closet and sat on the mattress than was the floor. She had seen the presents all over the floor. There had been 37. Thirty-seven! Raising Dudley must be like raising 18 children. He definitely ate enough for 18 children. She listened through the door.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, not to mention Jamie, who they seemed to have even more of a problem with, as though they weren't there — or rather, as though they was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a worm or some lesser being.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully. Never a good tone of voice when you wanted something from these people. Jamie could just picture Aunt Petunia's face looking as though she'd just had her mouth glued shut in a puckered state.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening. I would, Jamie thought.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "… and leave them in the car…"

"That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone…"

Dudley began to cry loudly. He wasn't actually crying, he probably hadn't cried in years, but all he had to do was smush his ugly face together and wail to get what he wanted. He was such a BRAT!

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried.

"I… don't… want… them… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoil everything!" Jamie was fairly certain that he shot Harry a nasty grin through his arms as he usually did. What an $$

Just then, the doorbell rang — "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother.

She couldn't see Piers, but Jamie knew exactly what he looked like. Piers was a scruffy boy with a face like some form of rodent. To be more specific, a pinched rat face. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley automatically stopped pretending to cry.

Half an hour later, Jamie, who felt extremely lucky, was sitting in the open trunk of the Dursleys' minivan, on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life. Her aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with them, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry and Jamie aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now— any funny business, anything at all — and you'll be in that cupboard or closet from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly…"

"Oh really Uncle Vernon. What if it has nothing to do with us? We aren't going to sabotage something that we're planning on enjoying, such as our FIRST trip to the zoo!"

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. And he completely ignored her.

Strange things happened around her. Her hair eyes and skin often changed color, and she didn't know why. Although she had a faint idea that it was something to do with magic. Her uncle always got furious whenever she used the word. This morning she had gotten sent to her closet because of that. She called Dudley that all that time, so it wasn't that. Hmm… was what she could do magic? She decided to have an experiment later. Then she tuned into the conversation.

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face so purple she half expected his moustache to turn purple as well: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."

Jamie flicked the back of his neck. Harry turned around and mock-scowled at her. Jamie grinned and they mouthed a conversation to each other until it Aunt Petunia yelled for Harry to turn around.

Finally they arrived at the zoo, and Uncle Vernon spent a good ten minutes trying to find a "better" parking spot, and then someone else took the open third row parking spot.

They wandered around the zoo, Jamie sticking with Harry to make sure that they had each other. If he was gone, she would most likely die or at least go insane.

They passed by lots of interesting animals like giraffes, what looked like a dark and furry Dudley in a cage, and flamingoes. Then they got something to eat, and her and Harry shared Dudley's "under-whipped-creamed" knickerbocker glory when Uncle Vernon bought him a new one.

Then it was time for the reptile house. It was dark inside with a slight damp feel. There, on one side was a huge snake. She could tell from afar that it was sad. It was missing something, something important to it. But Jamie could tell it was something the snake had never had. Weird. But she was done watching from afar. She marched up to it and said a quiet but bold "HI"

It jumped and she realized Harry had been talking to it before she had come up.

"Oh, sorry," Jamie said apologetically. Then she realized her voice was a strangled hissing noise. Damn!

Then "Dear old Dudders" waddled over with very, very surprising speed. He shoved Harry down, and before Jamie could beat the absolute sh-. Wait what the hell just happened? The glass was gone. Not broken, not on the floor, gone. Maybe this magic thing wasn't entirely wrong.

"…Thankssss amigo," was a hissing noise. Oh. MY. FREAKIN'.GOD. that snake had just talked to her. And Harry! How had she just realized this now? Oh god she was loosing her mind! It was just going to flow out her ears! OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!

Aunt Petunia was of course, losing her ever-loving mind and just barely managing to keep it together. And, of course, Piers had imitated his face and ratted on her and Harry. They were sent to their respective closet and cupboard, and had to sneak out for food later


	4. WTH is this!

**WTH is this?**

Jamie woke up after almost four months in the closet with a meal a day. She was, to use the technical term, pissed off. What the hell is wrong with these people she asked herself? Why do they hate me so much? I clean for them. I cook for them. I mouth off to them. Well, maybe that last one doesn't help much, she mused. She had spent these months trying to figure out what was going on with "magic" and had discovered that she could change how she looked on command (from her of course). Soon she could change without changing facial expressions, though her toes curled painfully when she did. She had tried turning into Harry. It was actually pretty cool and had worked. She had told Harry after she had gotten out and he had been very impressed but had also seemed slightly jealous to the person who knew him so well. She reminded him of how he had been talking to the snake and the glass had disappeared and he felt better.

While she was in there Dudley broke almost every single birthday gift he had gotten. UGGGGH that _kid_ was so stupid! If she got a present, she wouldn't be breaking it that's for sure.

At least she would be going to a different school than Dudley next year. Dudley was going to a rich brats' school and her and Harry were going to Stonewall. Dudley had threatened to push Harry into the toilet, but he had done one of his famous (at least to her) retorts. They had just finished cracking up outside the house when Aunt Petunia and Dudley came back with Dudley's new uniform. It was maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters that deserved to be floated down the river and never seen again. They carried sticks to hit each other with for later training in life. Jamie didn't get this, but she almost died laughing when Dudley walked in wearing his uniform. She was coughing to cover her laugh and she almost coughed up her lungs. She was thrown in her closet and left there to cough. Jamie quickly tried to burn the image into her head. Oh sweet Jesus that was FUNNY!

The next morning Jamie went into the kitchen and heard Harry ask Aunt Petunia, "What's this?"

Her lips tightened and she answered "Yours and Jamie's school uniforms. I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray."

"I didn't realize it had to be so wet," Jamie came up and said.

"Don't be stupid!" Aunt Petunia looked scandalized. God, when Jamie got to school, she and Harry would look like they were covered in bits of elephant skin. Really really old elephant skin. Disgusting!

Harry, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon had an argument about the mail and Harry came back with some letters. He gave one to her and started opening his. But Jamie saved hers, planning on opening it when she knew she was safe.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the heavy parchment the same, Jamie realized, as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's _mine_!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might pass out. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise. So much for normal.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness — Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Jamie, and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"_I _want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's _mine_."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry didn't move.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

"Let _me _see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Then he turned to Jamie.

"You have one too don't you?" Asked Uncle Vernon dangerously.

"NO, I DON'T."

Uncle Vernon picked her up and shook her. "GIVE IT TO ME!" he roared.

She saw red, she really did, but swallowed her fury and threw the letter on the ground before leaving the room. She would have loved to see Uncle Vernon trying to pick it up, but Aunt Petunia probably got it for him. _Sad sigh._

Jamie and Harry were moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

"I want the letters," Harry said, laying back on the bed.

"Me too. It's so annoying that they're taking them! Technically it's against the-"

"-Law, I know, but they don't care, and can just get rid of all evidence. They're probably destroying them right-"

"-Now. I wish we could have them anyway, even though it'll never happen."

Harry scowled.

"Let's check out some of the stuff in here. We might be able to repair some of it."

Jamie looked at him, impressed. "I will corrupt you properly one day," she warned.

"I'm just going to enjoy my life until that happens then." Harry smiled.

She whacked him on the back of the head. "Life is more fun corrupted!"

Over the next week, her and Harry got eighty letters altogether. On Sunday _Uncle_ Vernon was in a freakishly good mood. "No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today —"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one. Stupid brother! Jamie was halfway to _picking one up off the ground_ when Uncle Vernon grabbed her and Harry around their necks and threw them out of the room.

Everyone packed and were packed into the car, with Jamie in the seat between Harry and the window.

The Dursleys and Potters stopped at a motel for the night, where two hundred letters showed up for her and Harry. Harry foolishly tried to get the letters first and was knocked out of the way.

The next day, Uncle Vernon drove like mad. He stopped in numerous places and ended up by the sea while a storm was brewing. They were all locked in the car and Dudley finally caught on to the fact that his father might not be all there. "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia. If Dudley could tell, then there was a serious problem.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley snivelled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a _television_."

Monday. Tomorrow was Jamie's and Harry's eleventh birthday. July 31st, 1980. The most she'd ever gotten was a jump rope that was so old it looked like it had been around in the time of the revolutionary war.

Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling.

He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was fricken' freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and five bananas.

He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

Or maybe some papers or wood that you should've brought. Or maybe we could just set _you_ on fire...

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail.

Jamie had some hope since she suspected magic. How else would those strange things have happened? Her and Harry exchanged looks about it. Magic, they silently agreed.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to curl up under the second thinnest, most ragged blanket. Jamie was given the winner of the most ragged blanket contest and curled up next to Harry and they stayed as close as they could, fighting for warmth. They piled the two blankets on top of each other, and it wasn't too bad.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Neither twin could sleep, and they conversed in whispers about who the letter-sender was. Dudley's snores were soon drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Jamie that they'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. They lay together silently and watched their birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Jamie heard something creak outside. She sensed something outside and poked Harry.

"Do you hear that?" She whispered. He nodded and sat up. They counted the minutes down together, huddled for warmth.

Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters they could hide some and finally read it.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And two minutes to go. But what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds… they counted down excitedly… twenty… ten… nine— three… two… one…

BOOM!

Holy shit what was that?


	5. Ahh, so the murderer has a name

BOOM.

They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was another loud noise, though not nearly as, and Uncle Vernon "ran" into the room.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you — I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. AWESOME! Harry and Jamie exchanged awed looks.

A HUGE geared guy was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by the beard and his large amount of shaggy hair, but you could see his black eyes. Jamie's immediate impression was that this guy was on their side. She whispered that to Harry, and he looked a bit skeptical, but nodded.

The big dude squeezed his way into the hut, bending down so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. Coward.

"An' here's Harry and Jamie!"said the man.

Jamie looked up into the big face and saw that his black beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the man. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes," he continued, nodding to Harry before turning to Jamie. "An' yeh look a lot like yer mum, but wit' yer dad's eyes." Jamie and Harry both smiled, looking pleased.

Uncle Vernon gave a weird cough/sqeak. "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the big man

He reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like he'd been squashed, which would be a pretty big accomplishment actually.

"Anyway — yeh two," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry took it and opened it with trembling fingers while Jamie looked over his shoulder. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry and Jamie _written on it in green icing.

Then Harry said, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm, then grabbed Jamie's and shook her's. When he let it go, Jamie tried to surreptitiously rub her arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shrivelled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Jamie felt like she'd stepped in a fire. Ahhh, wonderful warmth!

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.

Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry." He passed the sausages to the twins, and the sausages were practically swallowed whole. "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are," Jamie admitted.

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er — no," said Harry.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"_Sorry_?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Jamie.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered.

"Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these two— these two! — know nothin' abou' — about ANYTHING?"

Jamie was slightly insulted. She wasn't stupid, and was even in advanced math class.

"I know _some _things," Harry said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About _our _world, I mean. _Your _world. _My _world. _Yer parents' world_."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "wahwimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at them. "But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're _famous_. You're _famous_."

"What? My — my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?" asked Jamie.

"Yeh don' know… yeh don' know…" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing them with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh _are_?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

When Hagrid next spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told 'em? Never told 'em what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer 'em? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from 'em all these years?"

"Kept _what _from us?" asked Jamie eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry — yer a wizard. An' Jamie, yer a witch"

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"I'm a _what_?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good 'un, the both of yeh, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh both read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to _Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. _He pulled out the letter and read it.

Jamie was handed a similar letter, the only difference was the name _Miss J. Potter._

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**_

_**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**_

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

_**Dear Miss Potter,**_

_**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**_

_**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.**_

_**Yours sincerely,**_

_**Minerva McGonagall,**_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

"I knew it," Jamie said.

"Wha'?"

"I knew that I was something special. I can do a lot of cool stuff."

"Like what?"

"I can change my appearance on command."

Harry then stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl— a long quill, and a roll of parchment. Harry's mouth fell open, and Jamie had a hard time hiding her shock as well. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Jamie could read upside down:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Given the Potters their letters._

_Taking them to buy their things tomorrow._

_Weather's horrible. Hope you're well._

_Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as calling someone.

Harry _finally_ realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They're not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop 'em," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Witch and Wizard indeed!"

"You _knew_?" asked Jamie angrily. "You _knew _I'm a — a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "_Knew_! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was?

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that _school _— and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as — as —_abnormal _— and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry and Jamie had both gone very white. Blown up? Jamie was going to be silent for a while, but as soon as Harry found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! The Potter's not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently. Jamie leaned forward slightly, needing to know more.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh — but someone's gotta — yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…"

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows —"

"Who?"

"Well — I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…"

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Jamie suggested.

"Nah — can't spell it. All right —_Voldemort_. "

Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this — this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches… terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him — an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before… probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em… maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' — an' —"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. Jamie and Harry unconsciously moved closer to each other and held onto each other.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad — knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find — anywa…

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then — an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, Harry, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it.

Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even — but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry.

No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts

— an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

"What about me?" Jamie asked, "Where do I fit in in this story?"

"You were there, but he went for Harry first."

Something very painful was going on in Jamie's mind. As she thought about it, she remembered a flash of green light, high cruel laughter, and something falling, and then a sharp pain in her cheek. She touched her scar, and felt dizzy. Hagrid was watching them sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped, but Jamie glared. Uncle Vernon seemed to have got back his meager amount of courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured— and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion— asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types — just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end -"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat.

Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley — I'm warning you — one more word…"

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see… he was gettin' more an' more powerful — why'd he go? Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on — _I _dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at them with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes. "Both of yeh will be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they're not going?" he hissed. "They're going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —"

"If they want ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop 'em," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son and daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. They're names've been down ever since they were born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled—"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER —" he thundered, "— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!" He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Jamie saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers. Oh Hell YES! That was awesome!

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at them under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff — one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" Jamie questioned interestedly.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry and Jamie.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' doormice in one o' the pockets."


	6. Snakey Snakey

**So desperately sorry. I have had seriously no time to write at all. The eighth grade teachers are packing homework on us to prepare us for high school. Grrr! At least I made it into Accelerated Geometry/Trigonometry! Yay! Of course that means the next time you hear from me after the summer ends is next summer but, OH WELL!**

Jamie woke early the next morning. She popped her eyes open and saw Harry laying next to her under the coat. There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. Jamie tried to figure out what it was, but she had looked for barely a second when Harry sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off of them. Jamie immediately grabbed it possessively and huddled under it. It really was frickin' freezing on that rock!

Harry scrambled to his feet and went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat. Jamie fended it off with a few lucky hits and it hovered close to her and tried to get to the coat again. "Don't do that." Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on circling the coat. Jamie started laughing. She couldn't help it, it was just too funny. She got almost identical dirty looks from Harry and the owl, and that only made her laugh harder.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly, trying and failing to ignore Jamie, as he kept shooting her warning looks. "There's an owl —"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets — bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags… finally, Jamie pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins, and both she and Harry were confused by the money. They held it out to the owl, who sniffed and moved five of the little bronze ones from Jamie's hand to Harry's.

Then the little owl looked at Jamie coldly and perched on Harry's shoulder, offering a leg with a little pouch attached. Harry put the money in the pouch and the owl nuzzled against him before shooting Jamie another nasty look, preening for a couple seconds, and flying away.

Jamie groaned internally. Harry was going to tease her mercilessly. Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. "Best be off, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Jamie became very aware that Harry wasn't teasing her at all at that moment. She glanced at her brother, who was looking at the coins. Shit. "Um — Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"We haven't got any money, and Uncle Vernon will never pay for us to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that Jamie," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed —"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold — an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

Jamie took this as a complete invitation, and ripped a piece of the cake off. It was more like fudge than cake, and she easily held it in her hand while eating the bit with her name on it. "Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins." Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding. Jamie cracked up again. The look on his face was priceless. But then again...

"Goblins?"

"Yeah — so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe — 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you — gettin' things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see." "Got everythin'? Come on, then." They followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you-" Harry started

"-get here?" Jamie asked.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah — but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh." They settled down in the boat, and Harry and Jamie looked at each other, clearly asking each other, 'How the HELL did HE manage to FLY?'

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving them another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter — er — speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land. Jamie ran her hand through the water, only half listening to the conversation.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Jamie sat up suddenly, pulling her hand out of the water and finally absorbing all that had happened. Holy crap she was a witch! MAGIC! WOOOHOOOOO!

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" The twins asked at once, and Harry reddened. Jamie didn't blush. Must be those mysterious hair and eye powers. Other people can probably do that stuff.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?" Jamie implored. She didn't pay attention in Geography or Government. No point if she could just read through the book later.

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone." At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Jamie honestly couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like CARS and saying loudly, "See that? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?" Jamie had a hard time not bursting into loud laughter with him around. he'd be great in a comedy skit on SNL.

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "Did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?" Jamie was shocked. A dragon? Although that sounded pretty AWESOME!

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go." They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry and Jamie so they could buy their tickets. People stared more than ever on the train, especially after Hagrid had "called the window". Then again, Hagrid took up two seats and also sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent, so that might have also been the main cause.

Jamie shook with silent laughter, and Harry nudged her, a laugh threatening to break out of him as well. "Still got yer letter, you two?" Hagrid asked as he counted stitches. Jamie took the parchment envelope out of her pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Jamie unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid. Jamie had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow. Please. The train was actually pretty fast.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Jamie and Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. But Jamie somehow knew that there was something here.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. It had a certain aura around it though, and Jamie felt that if she could only see black and white, this would be lavender. She also had the most peculiar feeling that only magical people could see it. Before she could say this, Hagrid had steered them inside. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The Twins exchanged amused glances.

The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this — can this be —?" The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter… what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Everyone was looking at Harry. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. "Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Jamie, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potters," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you." He then grabbed Jamie's hand with a hand-shaped ice cube

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potters?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble. "Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on you two." Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at his two charges for the day. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'." "Is he always that nervous?" "Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" Vampires? Hags? Freakin' awesome, though Harry looked ready to pass out.

Hagrid was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Jamie." He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. "Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley." He grinned at their amazement.

They stepped through the archway. Jamie looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. Then she turned around and gasped at the sight in front of her.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Jamie wished she could walk in slow-mo so she could catch it all. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…" A man with gaudy bright orange robes glanced at them with maroon eyes. Jamie and Harry moved closer together.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Jamie's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Jamie heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" Jamie suddenly felt a weird compulsion to go join them.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Jamie had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon… "Gringotts," said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was — "Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him.

The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Jamie noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. "Hello," Jamie said to the goblin. The goblin looked surprised, but Hagrid dragged her away before he could say anything.

Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed _

_Of what awaits the sin of greed, _

_For those who take, but do not earn, _

_Must pay most dearly in their turn. _

_So if you seek beneath our floors _

_A treasure that was never yours, _

_Thief, you have been warned, beware _

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid. A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter. Jamie followed a second later.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Jamie Potter's safe."

"You have the key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Jamie watched the goblin on their left weighing a pile of emeralds that sparkled and were the same color as Harry's eyes.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, they followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that." It was obviously something important, and Jamie was going to find out. There was no doubt in her eyes.

Griphook held the door open for them. Jamie, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty — and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Jamie didn't even try to remember, she just watched the vaults auras. Some were red, a very dangerous thing inside. Some were deep purple, good and powerful. Some went by too fast to tell. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering. Jamie's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open— they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. Jamie laughed. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick." He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came dramatically billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Jamie gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid. All of it was theirs — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from them faster than you could say thief. How often had they complained how much they cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them, buried deep under London. Hagrid helped Harry and Jamie fill up two bags.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook with a small, slightly sadistic smile. They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. Jamie was able to look down though, and she saw a vast amount of darkness. Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked. "About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin. Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Jamie was sure, the aura was a constantly changing thing. It seemed to be both good and evil, and immensely powerful. She leaned forward eagerly, wondering about the curious object. But it was just a small package wrapped in brown paper lunch bag. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat.

"What is it Hagrid," Jamie asked.

"Can' tell ye tha' Jamie" He replied.

"Sorry, I was just wondering, I mean it has to be something really important, if Dumbledore gave that job to you." Hagrid smiled, said thanks, but did not elaborate. Crap. She'd find out anyway though.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid. One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Jamie couldn't wait to get all her school books. She memorized things really easily, and would hopefully be top of her class again.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, yeh two, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Jamie and Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts, dears?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length. An assistant came over and put Jamie up on a stool. "Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling, and highly annoying voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Jamie immediately hated him. "Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again. What the heck was Quidditch? Was it a game?

"I do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry yet again. Houses?

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry.

"I'm happy to be going to Hogwarts. I wouldn't leave," Jamie said.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, completely and pointedly ignoring Jamie, and nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Jamie, staring at the boy with immense dislike pleased to know something the boy didn't.

"He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Jamie, narrowing her eyes threateningly.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Jamie coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?" "

They're dead," said the twins shortly. He didn't deserve to know.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," The Twins said at once.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before either could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, hopped down from the footstool.

"You as well," Said the assistant, and Jamie dragged Harry away from the other guy to the cash register.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

"Sadly," Jamie called as they left the store.

However they were both quiet as they ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought them (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts). "What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," They lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. They both cheered up a bit when they found an awesome bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote.

When they had left the shop, Harry said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know — not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make us feel worse," said Harry. They told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"— and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in —"

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were — he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?" Jamie persisted.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like — like soccer in the Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but —"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harry gloomily.

"'Course you will be," Teased Jamie.

Harry bumped her. "Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry —You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid. They bought the much-wanted school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Of course while that was happening, Jamie was off getting a bunch of promising-looking books, including _The Standard Book of Spells Grades 2-4 _and _The Most Useful Spells in an Everyday Hogwarts Student's Life_.

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got two nice sets of scales for weighing potion ingredients and two collapsible brass telescopes.

Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry and Jamie, Jamie and Harry examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked the list again. "Just yer wand left — A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present." Harry went red, and Jamie was glad she didn't blush.

"You don't have to —"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at — an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

They all entered the dark and rustling pet store. Jamie suddenly felt a draw to one side of the store. She went all the way to the back corner, all the way to the snake section, though she could feel angry owls staring at her the whole time. There was a beautiful green snake in a dusty tank. It looked lonely and sad. "I am like yousssssss"

"Whatss?"Jamie was shocked and barely registered that she was speaking in a different language.

The snake changed colors to glittereing gold and said,"I am lonelyss like yousss. I am oversssshdowed like yousssss.I want to be good like youssss"

"Okay, how much are you, I'll buy you." Jamie really wanted this beautiful snake. She seemed(for Jamie was certain it was a she) so sad and needed companionship. She took it out of the tank and brought it around, trying to find Hagrid. She couldn't find Harry or Hagrid, so she went to the front desk and asked how much the snake was.

The clerk waved her wand absentmindedly at the snake before realizing what it was. She paled instantly."Do you know how poisonus that is?"

"No, but she is sweet, I want to buy her, and would really like to know how much she is."

The clerk hesitated and said "Three galleons apparently. She's been in here for a while, so she's cheaper." Jamie paid with a thanks.

She met up with Harry and Hagrid and Harry's new owl at the front of the store. The snake wrapped around her wrist and turned gold. The little snake was so still that she could easily have passed for a cool bracelet.

Harry's owl seemed to accept her well enough. Well she didn't give any bad looks anyway.

"Are yeh' sure yeh' don' want anything?" Hagrid asked.

"I'm good! I've got her!" Jamie held up her wrist

Hagrid looked at the snake and looked a little paler.

"Do you know what type of snake this is?" Jamie asked just as the snake changed to a glittering red and gold pattern.

"It's a Shape Snake," Hagrid said in awe. "Rare ones they are. Poisonous too."

"How poisonous? asked Jamie excitedly.

"The righ' fang makes yeh' see things, an' the left fang is deadly."

"Cool, though dangerous," Jamie grinned.

"Well, how much was she?" Hagrid asked.

"Three Galleons."

Hagrid handed her three galleons and asked, "Anymore in there? Three Galleons few one o' those is unheard a'."

"The clerk said she'd been there a while, so I dunno."

Hagrid stepped inside for a moment and came back out, shaking his head. "Nothin'" He said ruefully, scratching his beard.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as she stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled.

Mr. Ollivander was super-creepy, and managed to intimidate Hagrid before turning to Harry.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.

"Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Jamie suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. She exchanged a freaked-out look with Harry while Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —" Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out." Harry tried. And tried.

The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the next wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…" He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?" Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great." Creepy much? Harry shivered. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand.

Jamie went next. "For you, I think an experimental core will work. Thankfully if a wand doesn't work for one twin, it won't work for the other, so those are ruled out" She tried even more than Harry, but nothing seemed to work. Then, when Ollivander was about to stop being tricky-customer-happy Jamie saw a wand box that seemed to have fallen to the floor.

Mr. Ollivander did not recognize it, but when he took it from the box he paled. He said "Ahhh, this one is the most experimental of all. Even if you are destined for it you might not be able to tame it well. This was crafted a very long time ago, before most wands in Britain were made with Feathers, Heartstrings, and Unicorn hair. It is Tangerine and shape-snake scales, eleven inches, made in Italy"

Jamie exchanged a glance with Hagrid and took the wand. A warmth spread throughout her body and she swished it downwards. A shimmer of gold swooshed out. She had found her wand! Yes! She paid seven galleons as well, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as they made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Jamie only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped them both on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said. He bought them hamburgers and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Jamie kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. "You all right? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

They shrugged, and Jamie took a bite of her more-air-than-burger burger. Harry put his down instead and sat for a few seconds.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," Harry said at last. Jamie nodded in agreement. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander…" He continued. "But I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry — I mean, the night my parents died." Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough, so will you Jamie. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, 'smatter of fact." Hagrid helped them on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed them each an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me…. See yeh soon." The train pulled out of the station. Jamie pulled out the snake, and Harry looked at her in interest.

_"Do you have a name?"_

_"Yesss. I am Tina. What aresss your namesss?"_

_"I'm Jamie and this is Harry."_

_"Wellsss met Jamie and Harry."_

_"We'll talk further at home, people are giving us odd looks."_

Tina gave a small snake laugh while the twins started a whispered conversation on what Hogwarts would be like


	7. Trains: The best mode of transportation

**Trains are My New Favorite Mode of Transportation**

The last month with the Dursleys was half fun, half depressing. Dudley was now so scared of the twins he point-blank refused to be in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Jamie in her cupboard or Harry in his room, force either to do anything, or shout at them ― in fact, they didn't speak to them at all.

Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry or Jamie in it were empty.

Although this was an improvement in many ways, the depressing part was feeling like a mute ghost.

Jamie moved up to Harry's bedroom, which was plenty for both of them, an owl, and a snake. The school books were incredibly amazing. Jamie had them all mostly memorized by the middle of august. She had gone through them all and found spells that would help her the most, such as a summoning charm, because Jamie lost EVERYTHING!

Jamie had used a spell to create a calendar (She had gotten many advanced books from the bookstore), and the twins were crossing of every day with, as they called it, "the symbolic red 'X' of hope".

There was this one book called Animagus Theory by Winston Change that had Jamie very interested. The fact that she didn't remember buying that book wasn't the only reason she was so curious. It was about people that could turn into animals. It was supposedly different for children, but as no kid was willing enough, no one was able to test it. For the transformation, you had to spend a year and a bit brewing a potion and drink it on the full moon, when Transfiguration magic pierced the air. There was a spell involved, and after the initial full transformation, you had to practice very hard in order to be able to do it again, re-learning it bit by bit. It was extremely interesting, and Jamie was going to succeed at it! She hoped…

On the last day of August, Jamie convinced Harry to go ask for a ride to King's Cross under the reason that "they hate me more and are more likely to say yes to you." Harry came out of the room triumphant.

Jamie woke up to Harry shaking her awake at five oh three, dressed and excited. Knowing Harry, he had probably woken up at five, "Whaaa?"

"Get up Jamie; we're going to Hogwarts today!"

Jamie sprang up and was dressed in one minute. She had packed the night before, and was extremely excited. Tina was still around her wrist like a bracelet from the night before.

"Tina, itssss time to wake upssss."

"Nossss, five more minutesssss."

"Finessss"

Two hours later, the huge trunks were loaded into the car, and Tina, the little brat-snake, was still asleep.

_Little brat, getting more sleep then me, _Jamie mentally grumbled. _She's a freakin' snake, all she does is sleep! I want to sleep!_

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped their trunks onto a cart and wheeled the cart into the station for them. Her suspicions of why Uncle Vernon was being so nice were confirmed when Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are. Platform nine ― platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was right for once in his life. Just once, don't pass out! There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon in a nasty voice with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Jamie turned around and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing.

Harry went to ask a guard. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Jamie asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one.

In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry and Jamie were now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, they had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and they had no idea how to do it; they were stranded in the middle of a station with ginormous trunks they could barely lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl. And a stupid sleeping snake.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and they caught a few words of what they were saying.

"― packed with Muggles, of course ―"

Harry and Jamie looked at each other then swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair.

Each of them was pushing a trunk in front of him ― and they had an owl.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten.

Harry and Jamie watched, careful not to blink in case they missed it ― but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone ― but how had he done it? Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there ― and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Jamie. "The thing is ― the thing is, we don't know how to ―"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and the twins nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on young man, go now before Ron."

"Er ― okay," said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble ― leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run ― the barrier was coming nearer and nearer ― he wouldn't be able to stop ― the cart was out of control ― he was a foot away ― he closed his eyes ready for the crash, and he disappeared! Awesome! Jamie went, and she saw that on the other side there was an amazing train station.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color (even green) wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat and Jamie walked a little bit faster, and before longer, they were nearly running, trying to one-up the other. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," Jamie heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

The twins pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment at the very end of the train. Harry put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot. Jamie laughed at him until she realized she couldn't lift it as well. They couldn't even lift it together! What did Harry put in here, the weight equivalent of Uncle Vernon's leg?

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins they'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Jamie panted.

"Oi, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the other set of twins' help, Harry's and Jamie's trunks were at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you ―?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter." chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry.

"I mean, yes, I am."

"Hello," Jamie said mock-solemnly," I am twin one, or Jamie, and this is my twin, twin two." Then she leaned forward with a conspiratory whisper, "I'm the prankster and mastermind, he's the one-who-goes-along-and-improves-on-the-way. It's his Indian name."

"Well twin one, I am George Weasley, pleased to make your acquaintance, you can also call me hot twin. He's Fred, or, not twin. I am thankful to meet a fellow prankster."

Harry groaned.

Then, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry and Jamie sat down next to the window where, half hidden, they could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying.

Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom ― geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said Fred.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Jamie noticed a red and gold badge on his chest with the letter P on it. _Why would he have a badge with his initial on it?_

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front; the prefects have got two compartments to themselves ―" _Oh_

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once ―"

"Or twice ―"

"A minute ―"

"All summer ―" =

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

Jamie cracked up silently. Oh god, a prefect in their family? Percy will be dead next month!

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term ― send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two ― this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've ― you've blown up a toilet or ―"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet." That's a great idea!

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

"You know those two kids who were near us in the station? Know who they are?"

"Who?"

"Harry and Jamie Potter!"

Jamie laughed as she heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, eh please…"

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there ― like lightning."

"Poor dears ― no wonder they were alone, I wondered. They were so polite, though."

"Never mind that, do you think either of them remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts' toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Jamie saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, and then she fell back and waved.

Jamie watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. She felt a great leap of excitement. She didn't know what they were going to ― but it had to be better than what they were leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked.

"Hey, Ron."

The Weasley twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train ― Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"This is Ron, our brother. See you later, then," Fred waved and the twin ginger terrors started to leave.

"Bye," said Harry, Jamie and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh ― well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got ― you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who ―?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well ― I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Jamie.

"Er ― Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible ― well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy.

"I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left ― Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff ― I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink.

He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

"Okay what's wrong?"Jamie asked Ron.

"What?"

"Something is obviously wrong, so spit it out. You're going to Freaking Hogwarts and you look like your pet just died."

Ron sighed and didn't answer.

"Ah, whatever!" Jamie sang. "Hogwarts here we come!" She got up and did a small victory dance. Ron and Harry stared at her, holding back laughs.

"Come on then!" Jamie said and pulled them up. "Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hog! Hog! Hog! Warts! Warts! Warts!"

Harry jumped with her, yelling right along, and by the time they were at the last "Hog!", Ron had joined in.

The three of them collapsed on the floor of the compartment laughing. Jamie got up first and with a smile, laid down on her back on a whole bench. She then kicked off her shoes and put her sock-feet up on the wall.

"Oi!" Came two angry voices.

Ron had a left shoe on his face, and the right shoe had decided to claim ownership of Harry.

Jamie burst out laughing.

After a bit, the three eleven-year-olds were seated (though Jamie had refused to give up her new spot) and were happily eating candy as though they would never see another bar.

Soon a tearful boy that seemed to be their age came into the compartment just as Ron said something funny. Jamie's pumpkin juice came spraying out her nose all over Scabbers.

Harry and Ron roared with laughter, but stopped with an occasional hiccup once the boy spoke up.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When Jamie shook her head, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He can't have gone far," Ron said.

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

"Neville Longbottom"

"Alright Neville, I actually might know a spell to help you." Time to put the "losing things spell" to use!

"Accio Neville's toad." The toad came whizzing out of nowhere.

Jamie pumped a fist, "Yes!"

Neville said many thank you-s and left.

"Nice spell work," said Ron.

"Thanks! You must know loads of stuff already though, growing up with magic."

"I know one spell. It's supposed to make this stupid lazy rat more interesting, you know, turn him yellow?"

"Awesome!" Harry said.

"Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!" Chanted Jamie.

"No more chanting!" Ron announced, then turned to look at Scabbers.

"Sunshine, Daises, Butter, Mellow

Turn this stupid fat rat yellow."

Nothing happened

"That was dramatic," said Harry.

the three of them snorted and Ron stuck Scabbers back into the pile of sweet wrappers.

"George gave it to me. Bet her knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry, "subtly" changing the subject.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?" Asked Jamie.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Oh Merlin did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles ― someone tried to rob a high security vault."

The twins stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

"Wow," Harry said softly.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked abruptly.

"Er ― we don't know any." They confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world ―"

And then he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking them through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open. Three boys entered, and Jamie recognized the middle one at once as her new enemy: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop.

He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. Jamie was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. A good hex would take them down though. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Jamie was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Jamie laughed outright. Draco Malfoy looked at her. "Are you laughing at my name, what's yours it's probably worse?" He was obviously trying to be threatening, but failing.

"Hi, I'm Jamie. I was just rather surprised at your name, as you seem more like a small rodent than a dragon."

Malfoy seemed at a loss for words, so he turned to Ron. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Jamie tensed.

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potters," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

They all stood up."What did you say about my parents you little brat?" Asked Jamie in a deceptively mild tone. The air seemed to cool.

"Your parents were good-for-nothings who didn't know their place in the world."

"Say that again," Jamie said, her face as red as Ron's hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Yes actually," Jamie said casually."Petrificus Totalus, Petrificus Totalus, Petrificus Totalus." The three were petrified. Ron was looking at Jamie with newfound respect. He helped her kick them into the hallway and then the three of them had a good laugh.

Later, Harry peered out of the window around Jamie. Jamie followed his example, effectively blocking his view. It was getting dark. She could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. Jamie told them she'd be right back. She went to the bathroom and changed into her uniform. There was a black skirt over gray tights and a white blouse with a black sweater vest. Not terrible as far a school uniforms go. The robe was another matter. Why did they have to wear robes? Was this medieval times? Uh, no. But it was part of the uniform, and she pulled it on with a sigh.

She went back to the compartment and saw that Ron's were a bit short for him; you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Ron looked pale under his freckles. Harry also looked pale. Jamie didn't really get why. They weren't going to fight to the death; they were just going to school. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets, and Jamie was fascinated still just as fascinated with them. She swallowed a chocolate frog whole and discovered that they still jump around if they are whole. Forget butterflies in her stomach, she had a freaking frog in her stomach!

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Jamie heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, you two?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me ― any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that there definitely were thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. It was beautiful!

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Jamie, Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then ― FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	8. The sorting Hat Almost Sucked

A/N I think Slytherin Harrys are stupid. Harry honestly doesn't have enough cunning to be in Slytherin in my opinion. Please review. I really like reviews and they make me happy. Plus they only take a few seconds. I don't even care if it's constructive criticism. I just want to know for a fact that people are reading.

**The Sorting Hat almost sucked**

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Jamie's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Jamie heard hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair. That would never ever work.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Jamie was so nervous her hair started changing colors. It went through the colors of the rainbow and many other colors. It moved so fast it made anyone who saw it dizzy and slightly sick

"Calm down Jamie," whispered Harry.

"Sorry," Jamie said, then changed back her hair.

"You're a metamorphingus!" said Ron in shock.

"A what?"

"You can change your appearance on command!"

"Oh, phteh I knew that."

Then several people behind them screamed.

"What the —?"

Jamie gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing.

What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Jamie didn't think it would hurt anymore. They wouldn't be expected to know anything yet, they weren't even technically students yet. Jamie got in line in front of Harry and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

It was absolutely stupendous!

It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Jamie looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens, but Jamie had read _Hogwarts, A History._

Jamie quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house. Hmmm, there's an idea.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry and Jamie. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll." How could he believe that?

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. "Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender"

became the first new Gryffindor,

and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Jamie could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling, oh she wanted to be a Gryffindor so badly.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. They looked like an unpleasant lot.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Jamie noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool.

The hat took a long time to decide with Neville.

When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"… , "Parkinson"… , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"… , then "Perks, Sally-Anne"… , and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing snakes all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

Harry sat on the stool for three minutes before…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Okay now she had to be in Gryffindor! There was no other option to her!

Harry took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He got the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

"Potter, Jamie!" Jamie walked forward proudly and sat on the chair.

"you have a snake in your pocket Jamie," said a small voice.

"I know," she thought back.

"You must be a Slytherin then."

"No, I'm a Gryfiindor."

"Well, if no Slytherin then Ravenclaw, you definitelyhave the brains."

"Absolutely not."

"Then Hufflepuff. You have a lot of loyalty to yours friends."

"But all my friends are in Gryffindor! I have to go there to be a true Hufflepuff. I want my smarts to shine. That won't happen in Ravenclaw. A if I'm in Slytherin, I won't be able to help my brother as well, and I will be made fun of. You have to put me in Gryffindor. Please. Even if I belong to a different house I really really need to be with my brother and hopefully Ron. Please?"

"All right fine," then aloud, "GRYFFINDOR"

Oh thank god Jamie thought. She sat down next to Harry and looked around the hall.

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest sat Hagrid, who Jamie stared at until he finally caught her eye and gave her the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry had recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train and told Jamie who he was. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Maybe it was enchanted. Jamie saw the creepy Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table.

"Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now.

Harry and Jamie crossed their fingers together under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Jamie clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him. Even if they'd had an argument on the train, they seemed to be getting along well now, and Jamie could tell that Ron would make an amazing friend.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. "Is he — a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open.

The dishes in front of them were now piled with food. Jamie had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Jamie piled her plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you —?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it.

I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer _you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"_Nearly _Headless? How can you be _nearly _headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like _this_," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces,

Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."

Jamie looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood wearing large chains. Chains on a ghost meant he had done something horrible in his life.

He was right next to Malfoy who, Jamie was almost bursting with happiness to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, and Jamie to some cookie dough, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed. That definitely could have gone wrong.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad." I felt horrible for Neville.

talking about lessons

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. Jamie felt a ghost of pain in her scar and touched it for a second.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape.

He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent. "Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Jamie noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. JAmei hurried off to Fred and George.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, Jamie, Fred and George were the only ones left. They were singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Jamie kept careful attention to where they were going. She noticed that Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, and hoped her memory would serve her well tomorrow.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves — show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. Jamie followed two girls up the staircase. One was Lavender Brown and the other was… Hmm, Jamie would have to ask.

"Hi I'm Jamilyn Potter, you can call me Jamie."

"I'm Lavender Brown," said Lavender, which Jamie already knew.

"I'm Parvati Patil," said the other girl, oh, right, she knew it had a "p" somewhere in it.

"Great to meet you!" And then they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Jamie pulled out Des and sent up silencio charms-something she spent a full week learning-and talked with Des for a while before they both curled up, Des around her wrist again, and fell asleep.


	9. I now hate Batman

**What if Jamie falls in love with George? I'm going to re-introduce so Ron will have someone to love, and because they need a complete rule-stickler too. I am adding her in this chapter, but I can change it if no one wants her. Jamie is too James-ish to be enough like Hermione for the books to work. The problem with the HP books is that none of the main main characters were pranksters. Please let me know if you want Hermione, not really sure what to do here. Also, Jamie is going to be great friends with Fred and George, so I think she should get the Map in second year. Harry can't have everything right now can he?**

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. Jamie thankfully was spared this. However, she still walked with Harry, and saw that people lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring.

Jamie had woken up early her first day at Hogwarts. She had accidentally woken Parvati up, but Parvati had just gone back to sleep almost immediately. Jamie learned that there was a new girl at Hogwarts that the ticket had somehow not been sent to, and you had to have a ticket to get through the barrier. To her delight the girl was in Gryffindor and was not a giggly girl like Parvati and Lavender.

Her memory was coming in very handy around Hogwarts since there were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. Jamie managed fairly well, and Fred and George were very proud. They said she might be worthy of the marauders, whatever that meant.

Professor McGonagall was definitely Jamie's favorite teacher, closely followed by Professor Flitwick. McGonagall was not someone to cross if you valued time out of detention. As Jamie didn't, she didn't mind a little crossing.

In Minerva McGonagall's first class, after taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Jamie had managed to change her match on her first try, or indeed, at all. Hermione had managed to make it silver and slightly pointier, but it was still not a needle. McGonagall pulled her aside after classes and had told her that her father had excelled in Transfiguration and that she seemed to have inherited his talent.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a complete joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Jamie thought this was likely, but also thought it would be likely that Quirrell wouldn't last the year without being pranked by her. Harry would not take her up on this bet.

She and Ron were not speaking to each other. Ron was continually calling her a know-it-all and was rather mean about it too. Just because Jamie knew all the answers to everything the teachers asked did not mean she was a know-it-all. There was no way she could know everything. Ron also had something against Hermione. He didn't like people smarter than him, which was a shame. She had also pranked his bed to make him slide off of it every time he got on it. It only activated when he was asleep of course, so Ron had kept falling off his bed whenever he fell asleep until Harry finally switched beds with him. Ron had immediately known it was her when she had asked, "Have a good sleep," in a sweet voice and was mad.

Jamie had told Harry to keep being friends with him because she could tell he would be a good friend to them both. Harry and Hermione actually got on fairly well to Jamie's surprise. They weren't outright enemies at least.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge. Jamie and Hermione were sitting a little down the table, listening to the conversation.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favours them — we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," said Harry.

Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before. It was easy for Jamie and Hermione though.

This morning Hedwig fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate.

Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?_

_I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, see you later _on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again. Jamie had not asked if she could come too. Ron was making her too mad. She hung out with Fred and George and told them something that had happened to her second day…

…She had been wondering aloud about the marauders when she had passed by a statue of some random dude named Gregory the Smarmy, and to her surprise, the statue jumped aside a little and said, "to get back in, tap with your wand and say _Dissendum." _

Fred and George told her that they were impressed that she had found it so quickly and assured her that they had not found it until their first weekend. They showed her some other secret passageways in return for some prank ideas. They were very impressed.

Crapola. Double Potions. Snape was supposed to be nasty!

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new — _celebrity_."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. Jamie turned her eyes green and stared at him in support of her brother. Two pairs of intimidating green eyes would probably freak him out.(A/NJamie doesn't know that Snape loved her mom and that she looks exactly like a younger version of her mom! Haha on Snape he is going to FREAK!)

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Jamie was furious at being called a dunderhead! She was smart and was willing to prove it!

"Excuse me Professor Snape," Jamie said.

Professor Snape turned around and started to say an icy, "What" before he saw her, choked, and then regained his composure and actually said, "What."

"I don't think it's a good idea to call us dunderheads professor. You said that you usually have to teach dunderheads, but if I am correct, you are the teacher and it is your job to make sure your students aren't dunderheads." Complete and utter silence followed this statement. Snape seemed to be in shock. He had probably never been spoken to that way in his entire life.

"And anyway, shouldn't you test how smart we are before calling us dunderheads. I am most certainly not a dunderhead. I don't know about those two over there," she continued, pointing to Crabbe and Goyle," But I can definitely tell you that Hermione," she pointed to Hermione, "And I, are not dunderheads and I could probably answer any first year question you like."

Snape seemed to have gotten over his shock and was saying," Fifty points from Gryffindor for rudeness and what is your name girl." Jamie did not like being called _girl_ because of Uncle Vernon, so she told him her name quickly.

"Jamie Potter _sir_." Jamie said with her head held high.

Snape stopped for a moment, freezing in place and then said…

"Potter!" said Snape. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"The draught of living death." Was the reply without hesitation.

"Let's continue. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat."

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same thing and they are called aconite by Muggles.

"Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" Jamie bit back "because you didn't tell us to" and copied it down.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs (Jamie with Hermione) and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Oh poor Neville. He was so nice and it wasn't his fault he was bad at potions. Jamie just mysteriously knew what to do. She didn't know how she knew that a helpful addition to the boil cure would be a pinch of sugar and a pinch of salt, she just did.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You — Potter — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills?

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"…

Jamie was with Fred, George, Their friend Lee Jordan ,and Hermione talking about Snape. Hermione didn't completely approve of the twins, but Hermione needed to relax a little, and Jamie noticed that after a while with the twins and Lee calmed her down and she was able to enjoy herself and joke with them. They set down to planning a Snape prank. They were going to use Jamie's metamorphingus skills to turn her into one of her parents and scare the living daylights out of Snape. They just needed a picture of one of them. Jamie didn't mind using her parents to play a prank. Her dad had been a prankster too, and it made her feel closer to them.

Later, Harry brought Jamie a newspaper clipping.

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

"_But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

"But that's our birthday Harry!"

_The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. _

Was this vault seven hundred and thirteen's contents that important? Was this the thing that had tried to be stolen? Probably Jamie concluded. She would find out.


	10. The Dog, The Dog, and The Dog

**Disclaimer: I really don't want anyone to think I own this because I don't want to get arrested.**

**Hey ya'll sorry for not updating in so long! I wasn't allowed near the computer. My mom even changed the password to something that I don't know so I couldn't get on. But I'm back, 'Mione is back, and soon, they will all be friends! I didn't do a great job with this chapter. Poor Jamie though with Qudditch. The broom flew out of nowhere and she caught it. She is a reserve and will probably confront Wood when Harry is knocked out. Jamie will get along in an almost Harry-Lupin style with McGonagall. Let me know if Hermione should join in with animagi. Don't assume everyone else will and then pass by. If everyone assumes that then no one will tell me! I want to be told.**

_**The Dog, The Dog, and The Dog**_

Jamie had never believed she would meet a boy she hated more than Dudley, but that was before she met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much.

Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

Jamie doubted this. She figured that they would both be pretty good for some weird reason.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.

Harry had told her that Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had also told her that he had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Jamie felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground, no matter how nice he was.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was.

This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something…"

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Jamie and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Jamie, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Jamie had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. Suddenly a broom flew out of nowhere right at Jamie and it would have hit her if she hadn't reached out and caught it.

"What are you doing girl?" she barked.

"Nothing Madam Hooch," Answered Jamie honestly.

"Hmmm, well, everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Jamie looked at her broom and thought that it looked like it needed a makeover. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Jamie's broom jumped into her hand before she said up, but it was the only one that did. Harry's flew up a split second after hers.

Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Jamie; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry, Jamie, and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Jamie saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and —

WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap.

His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought _you'd _like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"

"Give it _here_!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he _could _fly well.

Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"_No!" _shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move — you'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared and he was amazing. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and Jamie heard screams and gasps of girls and an admiring whoop from Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Jamie saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball — wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching — he stretched out his hand — a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Jamie's heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them.

He got to his feet, trembling.

"_Never _— in all my time at Hogwarts —"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "— how _dare _you — might have broken your neck —"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"

"Be quiet, Miss Potter —"

"But Malfoy —"

"That's _enough_, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it.

"You're _joking_."

It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it. Momentous event.

"_Seeker_?" he said. "But first years _never _— you must be the youngest house player in about —"

" — a century," said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too — Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you." George winked at Jamie and they both left.

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact.

What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other.

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me."

They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying —"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"— and you _mustn't _go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown. Jamie was behind her, smiling like crazy.

"_You!_" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy — he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

"Wait for me," Jamie called, "I am so coming too."

But Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you _care _about Gryffindor, do you _only _care about yourselves, _I _don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so —"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are _not_."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve —" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. Aww poor guy. We should write the password on his hand in sharpie. Of course I'd have to get a sharpie. Jamie's thoughts were then interrupted.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" said Harry.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good — well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later —"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet.

The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once.

The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following — they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going — they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I —_told _— you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I — told — you."

"This is not the time for I told you so s 'Mione" Said Jamie."Even though you did."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves.

He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves — please — you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled.

She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "_Alohomora_!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now _where did they go_?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right —_please_."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!"

And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay"

"get _off_, Neville!"

For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Jamie's bathrobe for the last minute. "_What_?"

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Jamie knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob and they fell backward — Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared — all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that — pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, _not _the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," Jamie heard Ron say. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you."

When they got to their beds, Jamie suddenly whispered to Hermione.

"'Mione, you don't think that there might be more underneath the dog than, say I dunno, a small room. What if there's something much more than that under there. I think that we need to find out."


	11. The Troll Makes us all Friends

**A/N I am so sorry thaty I didn't write for a while. I was in Wisconsin and had no computer ascess. I have no spell-check ascess at the moment either, so sorry about some bad spelling. NO Des in this chapter either, I was too lazy. I'm to lazy is my supa-cool catch-phrase. I say it when someone wants me to do something I don't really mind doing, but still couldn't really bothered. I love summer. I'm also thinking of pranks, but I NEED IDEAS! I am not a prankster myself, (I don't really like getting in trouble) but I definitely could be if I had the guts. I love how many people have put me on their favs lists. What exactly do AU and OOC mean? I am completely lost. Does AU mean Alternate Universe or something? Take pity on me please. I'll read one of your stories and review it! Yes, I am trying to bribe you, but does that matter? The only thing that matters is; Did it work?**

**PS I DON'T REALLY GET RATINGS EITHER, SO EXPLANATIONS ARE WANTED. I DON'T KNOW IF I RATED RIGHT.**

**The troll makes us all friends**

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Jamie couldn't help but crack up at the look on his face.

Indeed, by the next morning Jamie, Harry and Ron, after discussing it at length, thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one.

In the meantime, Harry filled Ron and Jamie, and Jamie in turn filled in Hermione, about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor.

All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but they seemed to think of this as a bonus. Jamie was having trouble dividing her time between the two.

All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. it swooped down on Harry. A letter came after it saying:

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Professor McGonagall_

Harry had obvious difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron and Jamie to read to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even _touched _one."

The three left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?"

Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, it is," said Harry, with Jamie fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

They headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team…"

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Harry, Ron and Jamie bolted their dinner that evening and then rushed upstairs to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Jamie, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top. She was itching to ride it.

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with all her homework and trying to keep her friends from killing one another, but Jamie could hardly believe it when she realized that she'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had.

The lessons were incredible with the basics mastered, her and Hermione discussed them at length while doing homework.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom.

Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan and Jamie was with neville.

Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger.

It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor

Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Jamie managed to lift it up a little bit, but she couldn't manage to get it higher. Neville looked sad that he couldn't do it, so jamie told him that he had to really want the feather to fly, that he had to have a reason, and one that worked was that "I want to know if I can do it.". Neville still was feeling down so Jamie kept up a stream of encouragement, but before Neville could try again, Hermione got it up about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry and Jamie as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Jamie gave Ron a death glare and hurried after her.

Jamie heard Ron say, "She must've noticed she's only got one friend, who is probably better friends with us."

Without turning around, Jamie gave him the finger and kept going after Hermione.

"Go Away," sobbed Hermione,"You obviously do like them better."

"Mione, honestly I really truly don't. You are my best friend. harry is my twin, but let's face it, he's a boy. You are an amazing person and should not pay attention to what Ron says. You know even if he doesn't like you, he'd save your life in a second. That has to count for something."

Hermione eventually quieted, but she refused to leave the bathroom, so they missed their lessons. But Jamie didn't mind. She finally had a true best friend. Harry was great but he was her brother. He was not a touchy-feely person. They talked until dinner, when Jamie stomach started to grumble.

"Oh go ahead Jamie, I'll stay here."

"Are you sure mione?"

"Yes just go!"

"I'll bring you some food.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. Jamie saw all this coming in and gasped in amazement. It was just so, Halloween-ish.

SHe had just sat down at the table far away from Ron when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"We have to go get Hermione," Jamie said, grabbing Ron and Harry."It's your fault she's in there anyway."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry and Jamie behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me."

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Jamie sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it — a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed — at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"That's the girls bathroom! We have to save Hermione!"

Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror. Jamie grabbed Hermione and tried to pry her from the wall, but was unable to.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped – it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand — not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over — and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it — dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh — troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Jamie, and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

Hopes of winning a hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Jamie's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Hermione looked at the floor. Jamie wished Ron would put his wand down, as he looked like a complete idiot.

"Please, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Ron knocked it out with its own club, and Jamie tried to get me out of the room. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well — in that case…" said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started wearing neon , there's an idea.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to those remaining.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"She doesn't want people to think it's clever," put in Jamie.

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if you hadn't made her cry you better apologize to her," Jamie said angrily.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates. Ron got up the courage to say sorry, and with a smile, Hermione forgave him.

Jamie was very thankful to have all of her friends getting along, because there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them."


	12. Quiditch sorry it's late 4give me plz

A/N All I can say is, if you haven't read all the books, don't read this story. My author's notes will give a lot of stuff away. My mom hasn't let me near a computer, so I just finally took my chance. Yes, Jamie is a Horcrux, but a half horcrux. There is only a small part in her, so her dreams and crap won't be as bad.

I feel horrible, like a complete jerk, and just in general mad at myself. I didn't update for like, two whole months. If you want to review just to call me a bag 'o crap, I will understand. If you want to tell me how awesome I am, I will also understand. "hint hint" ;)

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. Jamie was so jealous of Harry. She loved flying and had watched all the practices. All the positions looked fantastic, and she could watch quidditch for hours.

On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow.

Hermione had lent her Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Jamie learned that Quidditch was thought to have been created at Queerditch marsh, and she vowed to go there someday.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it.

Life was just overall better for Jamie now that all her friends got along.

The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar.

They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Jamie noticed at once that Snape was limping. They all moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed.

Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

Jamie looked up, but Harry just showed him Quidditch Through the Ages, which he had started reading.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

"You and me both," added Jamie. Hermione didn't seem to happy with this conversation, but she kept quiet.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway. Jamie knew that they should just ask her, but since she was a procrastinator, she wasn't thought to be as smart as Hermione.

Harry got up and he told them he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," they all said together.

Harry came back a few minutes later panting.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him — he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No — he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"He seems like to obvious a choice though. I feel like we're missing something important. There is a twist in there somewhere." Added Jamie.

"This isn't a novel Jamie," snapped Ron, "And honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Jamie went to bed with her head buzzing with the same question.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. Jamie wanted to be a qudditch player soooo badly. Maybe she could be a reserve…

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

Ya that helped, thought Jamie.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron, Jamie, and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined.

It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colours.

Just then, Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. Jamie thought it was brilliant.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which (It had been Fred, thought Jamie) — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. Jamie was exhilarated. She knew that somewhere in her future Quidditch would be involved.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!"

Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch — all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs — he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead — he put on an extra spurt of speed —

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below — Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dean?" said Ron.

"Red card!" said Dean furiously. "In football you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't football, Dean," Ron reminded him.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean's side.

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So — after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating —"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul…"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession." Lee was brilliant, there was no doubt in Jamie's mind.

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch.

For a split second, she thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off.

But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession — Flint with the Quaffle — passes Spinnet — passes Bell — hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose — only joking, Professor — Slytherins score — A no…"

The Slytherins were cheering. Only Jamie had noticed Harry's problem, and she was trying desperately to bring him to the center of attention. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom… but he can't have…"

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it.

He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic — no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape — look."

Jamie grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something — jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing. Brat.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front.

Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row — Snape would never know what had happened. It was brilliant.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

"Neville, you can look!" Jamie said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes. He was so sweet!

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick — he hit the field on all fours — coughed — and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference — Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Jamie heard none of this, though.

Harry was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut. Hagrid was now treating Jamie the same as he did Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and Jamie forgave him for being a bit rude before. He was to nice of a person to stay mad at.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "We all saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry apparently, without jamie's consent, decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah — he's mine — bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year — I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape. Jamie had known he was evil though, no one treated Harry like that!(Except her)

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!" Hermione and Jamie said together, then blinked in surprise.

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh — yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel —"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself, but Jamie was pleased.

Who thinks it would be hilarious if Neville was really a super genius and he was smarter than Hermione? That would be funny. I would pair Jamie with Nev, but he belongs to either Luna or Hannah, you let me know OK? No one reviewed last time. I always read fanfics on my phone, and everyone who alerts or favs mine, I look through your stories and see if I want to read one. Sorry, not into anything but Harry fics! Many apologies for that. But now, everytime that I read, I review if the person allows anonymous reviews. I truly do. Spread reviewing cheer around right? HELL YA! JamieXGeorge 4evah!3


	13. Christmas

Read A woman and three brothers after this(it's a story I just wrote.) the necklace is a deathly hallow, so a new version of the Tale of Three Brothers is needed.

ENJOY!

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and Jamie and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. No one could wait for the holidays to start.

While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home." Jamie hissed like Des. Malfoy looked scared.

"What's wrong Malfoy, scared of snakes?" Jamie taunted.

Malfoy didn't say anything.

It was true that Harry and Jamie weren't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas, but who would want to? Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Jamie had signed up at once. She didn't feel sorry for herself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas she'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Jamie had great prank plans for Christmas…

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose — that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him —"

"I'll help," Jamie volunteered.

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree — put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me —we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Jamie told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here — I've told yeh — drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere — just give us a hint — I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin', said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book.

He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry.

And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random.

Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section.

Jamie went to look at other student's papers, seeing if he might be in a report one of the was writing, but nada was found out before they were all kicked out of the library because Harry was too close to the restricted section.

They had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione. Ron was an idiot.

Once the holidays had started, Jamie, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel.

They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork — bread, English muffins, marshmallows — and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry and Jamie wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family — in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

On Christmas Eve, Jamie went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all.

She woke in an empty dormitory and a small stack of presents was at the end of her bed. PRESENTS! FOR HER! She jumped out of bed, grabbed the stack, and went to Harry and Ron's dorm.

"Morning" she screamed loudly, waking them up.

"Happy Christmas," said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe.

"You, too," said Harry and Jamie together. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!" again together.

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Jamie's or Harry's.

Jamie picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Jamie, from Hagrid. Inside was a charm, obviously meant for a charm bracelet that was in the shape of a doe. A note you're your mom dropped this while at my house. I tried to give it back, but she told me to keep it. Jamie was ecstatic

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" he said, 'What a shape! This is money?"

"You can keep it," said Harry and Jamie, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle — so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and — oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater. You two sound exactly like Fred and George."

"What?" Harry and Jamie said together.

"You keep talking at the same time."

"Oh I didn't," Harry started.

"Realize we did that." Jamie finished.

Ron shook his head and went back to his presents.

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green with a gold H on the front and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon. I think she does letters for twins."

"That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Jamie opened hers to reveal a deep purple sweater with a Gold J on the front and a large box of homemade fudge. Jamie loved chocolate. She turned herself completely yellow for her sunshiney mood and pulled on her sweater.

Her next present also contained candy — a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Ron. She got a magical camera from swallowed one to feel it jumping around in her stomach. She kept laughing hysterically for two whole minutes, and almost missed Harry's next gift.

This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavour Beans he'd gotten from Hermione.

"If that's what I think it is — they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?"

Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is — try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible.

He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulled off the cloak and Jamie seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing she had never seen before were the following words that she read aloud:

Your father left this in my possession before he died.

It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well.

A Very Happy Christmas to you.

There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. Jamie felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to her dad? Harry better share. Before prank possibilities overwhelmed her, she turned her attention back to her last present.

She opened her last small package. It was a small jewelry box. Taped to the front was a note in the same handwriting.

_This was your mothers_

_There are no others_

_One of kind just like you_

_It will only work for the owner that's true._

_Invisible visible that's all you think_

_Invisible visible happens in a blink._

_Length can change to fit many people_

_Invisibility will be equal_

She opened the box to reveal a golden heart locket.

It said LREP (a/N lily rose Evans potter). The moment she touched it, the letters changed to JRP, her initials. With trembling fingers, she put it on, and then remembered the note. Invisible she thought, and suddenly she was just as invisible as Harry had been. Visible she thought, and she appeared again. Harry and Ron were gazing in shock. Long she thought, and the necklace grew. Stop, and original length she thought

Before she could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight, but Jamie wore the necklace proudly, no one could guess what it was.

"Happy Christmas!"

"Hey, look — They've got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Twin sweaters," Jamie yelled, slapping the F and G.

"Twin sweaters," george imitated Jamie, slapping H and J.

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"And Jammy and Harmie."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Jamie had never in all her life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him. Jamie got a prank kit after pulling with George, and she noticed many ways to improve each one.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Jamie watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Jamie's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided. Jamie and George cackled and wolf whistled ow-oww.

When jamie finally left the table, she was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-FireCrackers kit, and three different prank kits. The crackers were sending her a message. The white mice had all disappeared and Jamie had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner. She was going to save some for Des, but Des liked the chase.

Potters and Weasleys alike spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds.

Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. Jamie suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been jamie's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of her mind all day. She slipped out of bed, thought invisible, grabbed the camera and prank kit, and explored Hogwarts all night until she passed by a suit of armor and heard snape and Filch talking. Oh crap

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

Jamie felt the blood drain out of her face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

She backed away as quietly as she could. A door stood ajar to her left. She saw it move slightly. Harry she thought. She crept in. It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket – but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry suddenly appeared _VISIBLE _and Jamie appeared too. Harry knew she was there, it was something they just always knew.

Jamie looked in the mirrior. There she was, and there was a whole crowd of people around her. Harry whispered _i think they only exist in the mirror_.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes were just like Harry's. This was her mom Jamie realized. HER mom. Unknowningly she changed her eyes to match, but she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did. Her parents. At mirror Jamie's feet, ther was a little reddish brown haired girl with greenish hazel eyes. That would've been my little sister. Thought Jamie. Mirror Jamie nodded and smiled. Mirror Harry was on her left, and with a jolt, Jamie realized who was on her right. George. He smiled, waved, and kissed mirror Jamie's cheek, and mirror Jamie giggled, laughed, and kissed him back on the cheek.

Behind her dad, a man with black hair and ice blue eyes stood with casual grace. He was very handsome and around the same age as her dad. He looked vaguely familiar, as did the man behind her mom. This man had sandy hair and amber eyes. He looked tired, but incredibly happy. He looked even more familiar, but Jamie didn't know who he was. She pulled out the camera, snapped a pic, said goodnight to Harry, and left to go the bed. The picture popped out of the camera and Jamie studied it. It was an exact copy of what she saw in the mirror. She looked at it one last time before slipping under the covers into dreams full of pranks.

"You could have woken me up," said Ron the next morning, crossly.

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mom and dad," Ron said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people.

Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

"Are you all right?" said Ron. "You look odd."

….

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No… you go…"

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it — and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

Harry, the next morning explained to her the mirror, what it showed him, and Ron, and how it worked.

Jamie was confused. She didn't like George did she. Maybe a little a small voice in her head said…

…...


	14. Last like five chapters

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. That thing was bad for him. Jamie did look at the picture again, but it didn't haunt her like Harry's mirror experience.

Harry told Jamie that he wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was. Classic Mione.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again, and Jamie watched so much that she had been made reserve, so she had to go to all practices too.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Jamie was on Wood's side. Quidditch was worth anything to play. She didn't get to play as much as everyone else, but every second was pure joy.

If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. They would not lose! THEY WOULD NOT!

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words. Jamie had finally admitted to herself that she liked him, but she didn't blush because, well she just didn't. (A/N I have never blushed in my entire life. Not once)

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, thought Jamie, but she had another reason for not wanting Snape near Harry while he was playing Quidditch…

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and Jamie headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where they found Ron and Hermione playing chess.

Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something everyone thought was very good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen—" He caught sight of Harry's face.

"What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

"I can't," said Harry. "If I back out, Jamie will have to play, a snape'll probably hurt her worse than he tried to hurt me."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Jamie, who leapt up and performed the counter curse before giving him a hug.

"What happened?" Jamie asked him, concerned, leading him over to sit with Harry Hermione, and Ron.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily.

"I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"I'm going to get him and then." Jamie made a violent gesture in midair."

"No, Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry. Jamie still had her arm around Neville trying to calm him down.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry… I think I'll go to bed… D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever —"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Jamie, Ron and Hermione.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here — listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. "Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an medium sized old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

Jamie gasped, but Ron said "The what?"

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look – read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry, Jamie, and Ron read:

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"I'm going to play," he told Ron and Hermione. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Snape. I'll show them… it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermione.

"Really confidence-inspiring." Jamie said sarcastically.

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Philosopher's Stone?

Jamie didn't see how he could — yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds…

Jamie knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. Jamie was supposed to wait right outside the locker room in full quidditch robes.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match.

Little did Harry know that Ron, Jamie, and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse.

They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

Harry could have laughed out loud with relief, he was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look — they're off. Ouch!"

Jamie, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. Jamie couldn't believe it. He'd done it — the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped — then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror… been keeping busy… excellent…"

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

George and Fred showed Jamie the kitchens, and Jamie helped them bring up food by giving them the "ingenious" idea to use wingardium leviosa on the trays.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Jamie, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this…"

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy — and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus' — I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through —"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought.

In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Jamie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Philosopher's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color coding all her notes. Jamie hadn't bothered with colors. Whenever she studied a topic, she would turn herself a color, and soon, by simply turning colors she could remember everything. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it all."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me…"

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones.

It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work. Jamie planned end of the year pranks for everyone. Mostly Malfoy. Evil laugh.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once.

"An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St—"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy —"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen — come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh —"

"See you later, then," said Jamie.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide. "

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that.

It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden — anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So — yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice.

Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

"Everyone knows Dumbledore trusts you the most out of almost everything," Jamie pressed, fingering the doe charm on her invisibility necklace.

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that… let's see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments… Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Jamie knew Harry Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as she was. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's that?"

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er…"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library —Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts. Jamie was not a homework fan.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing—"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all. If he did anything, Jamie would slap him.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly ugly, but it wasn't half bad. It had huge, midnight black wings and pretty violet eyes and little mini horns. It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. Jamie reached out to pet it, making her fingers scaled and black like the dragons. The dragon allowed it. Jamie instinctively knew it was a girl, but apparently Hagrid didn't.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid, but he wasn't talking about jamie.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face — he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains — it's a kid — he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

Jamie took her hand off the dragon and took away some of the scales and started turning her skin gradually back to normal. The dragon watched, interested, and when her hand was back to normal and she reached out to pet it, it didn't snap. It nuzzled her a bit. Jamie decided it was cute…

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Jamie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione very nervous.

They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him. Jamie was the only one that like violet-eyes, but she knew he had to do free.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?" Violet-eyes, for lack of a better name, snapped at him and looked back at Jamie.

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie." he said. Jamie immediately understood.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?" uugh!

"No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Jamie, Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief.

"Crap." Said Jamie.

"I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The four of them put their heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter — I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult – I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert — and Malfoy. At least according to them. But violet-eyes liked Jamie, and Jamie couldn't help but like her back

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey — would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Jamie, Harry and Hermione rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me— I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no — I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Harry Jamie, and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin' — he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Jamie calmed "norbert" down for Hagrid.

Harry and Hermione walked back to the castle obviously feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough. Jamie had mixed feelings.

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years. Jamie stood by them, and told people off for being mean, but nothing helped. NO one would listen to a _first year._

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him.

Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well — no," Ron admitted.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on. He'd had it with sneaking around and spying. When he told Jamie this, Jamie laughed and started betting with Ron how long it'd last.

He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him "the Seeker." Except Fred and George, probably because they were friends with Jamie.

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. Jamie did her best to take her place just to have at least one annoying person raising their hand. It didn't really help, but she did get points for it.

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library with Jamie one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As they drew closer, they heard Quirrell's voice.

"No — no — not again, please —"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer.

"All right — all right —" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Jamie didn't think Quirrell had even noticed them. They waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before he remembered what he'd promised himself about not meddling.

All the same, he'd have gambled twelve Philosopher's Stones that Snape had just left the room, and from what Harry had just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step — Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.

Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harry and Jamie told them what they'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell —"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Jamie. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor — who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around —"

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight.

Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall.

Professor McGonagall

Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. He half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Harry, she felt they deserved what they'd got.

Ron and Jamie had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. Jamie woke by herself.

In a matter of seconds, though, they were all wide-eyed as Harry began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.

Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort… and Voldemort's waiting in the forest… and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich…"

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so… Bane was furious… he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen… They must show that Voldemort's coming back… Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me… I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off… Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of, with Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore.

There could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door as the days went by.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox — points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Jamie thought she did very well, despite the stabbing pains in her scar. Harry's scar was hurting too. Neville thought Harry and Jamie had bad cases of exam nerves because they always looked tired. Harry had nightmares, and Jamie was worried about Harry.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Jamie lead the cheering for the whole .

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds.

"I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting — it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Mine too!"

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning… it means danger's coming…"

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, Jamie, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Jamie watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth.

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. Jamie was alarmed and jumped to hers as well. She sensed his worry.

"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

Jamie understood. Violet-eyes had been a trap, and Hagrid had fallen in.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the four of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head — that's one of the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah… he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here… He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after… so I told him… an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon… an' then… I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks…

Let's see… yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted… but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home… So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…"

"And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well — yeah — how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep —"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey — where're yeh goin'?"

Harry, Jamie, Ron, and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak — it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"We'll just have to —" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you three doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, Harry, Jamie, and Ron thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Jamie swallowed — now what?

"It's sort of secret," harry said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time – "

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor — it's about the Philosopher's Stone —"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up..

"How do you know —?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think — I know — that Sn— that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor —"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we —"

Hermione gasped. Harry, Jamie, and Ron wheeled round.

Snape was standing there. Jamie's eyes were immediately green and she started playing with her necklace, it had become a nervous habit of hers

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were —" Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.

"Going up to the library to find a cooling spell since it's so hot professor," Jamie said," I hate hot weather like this, so I want to find a spell to blow cool air on me." While she was talking, she had been shortening her hair to look like harrys and had changed it to a sandy brown like the amber-eyed mirror man. On sudden inspiration, she changed the eyes to amber. Snape had obviously known her father, he was constantly calling Harry arrogant like his father, so maybe he knew something about the man she felt a weird connection to.

In a strangled sounding voice that told Jamie he recognized the features she had taken, snape said "You want to be more careful Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harry flushed. They turned to go upstairs, but Snape called them back.

"Be warned, Potter — any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape — wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know."

He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong… '"

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron and Jamie. "Come on."

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"

Harry and Ron went back to the common room, Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.

The other two stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first.".

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts!

Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side!

I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

He glared at them.

"You're right Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all three of us?" said Ron.

"All — all three of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us?

I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful…"

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

"Mione and I will share the necklace."

After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset by it.

Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break and Jamie helped. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy — he didn't feel much like singing.

He ran back down to the common room.

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us – if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own —"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at their guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

Jamie looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

"I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll — I'll fight you!"

"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot —"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

Harry turned to Hermione.

"Do something," he said desperately.

Hermione stepped forward.

"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."

She raised her wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.

"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak. Jamie hugged him, whispered _sorry_, put the necklace around her and mione, and followed Harry and Ron.

But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

Harry had a sudden idea.

"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake — I didn't see you — of course I didn't, you're invisible — forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off. That was the single most brilliant thing Jamie had ever seen.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor — and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all four of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other two.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes…"

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased — it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing — just black — there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope…"

And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and —.

Ron went next, then Jamie, then Hermione.

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump she landed on something sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though she was sitting on some sort of plant.

Jamie came with an oof.

"We must be miles under the school," Hermione said.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you three!"

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry, Jamie, and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.

Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on her. Now she watched in horror as the two boys and girl fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them. Jamie stayed still, and the plant moved in slo mo.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "I know what this is — it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare… what did Professor Sprout say? — it likes the dark and the damp."

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes — of course — but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the girl and two boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry as he joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis — 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Jamie was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, she remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Jamie listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know… sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead — I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… well, there's no other choice… I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds… they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering —glittering?

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean…" he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "… yes — look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle."

They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one — there — no, there — with bright blue wings — the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Hermione went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and fell off her broom. She hit the floor with a crack and moaned in an unconscious state. Jamie immediately landed. Looking frantically for her aura, Jamie noticed there was a deepening of color on her ankle. Hermione was fine, had a pulse and was still breathing, with a broken ankle and slight concussion, judging by a slightly darker color by her head.

Harry caught the key and he and Ron landed.

"Is she okay."

"A slightly concussion, broken ankle. I think the shock knocked out, not anything serious. Hermione would want us to keep going though, so lets go.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron and Jamie shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we — er — have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.

"This needs thinking about…" he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces…"

Harry and Jamie stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess —"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Jamie, you go there instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, and Jamie took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes… look…"

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry — move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Jamie were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think — let me think…"

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes…" said Ron softly, "It's the only way… I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harry and Jamie shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I make my move and she'll take me — that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But —"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron —"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Wait Ron, just so you know, you're just as much my brother as Harry."

Ron looked shocked, said" thanks. Now Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go — now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor —

Jamie screamed but stayed on her square — the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He had been knocked out with, from Jamie POV, bruised ribs.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Jamie charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's —?"

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

Jamie picked up a note

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Jamie let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

Instead of going with the riddle, she went by auras, and within a minute had found which was which.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire — toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Jamie pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, get back and get Ron and hermione. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy — go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"But Harry — what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well — I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Jamie kissed him on the cheek, hugged him and said "I love you Harry, do your best."

"I will. Now You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Jamie. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No — but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck — take care."

"GO!"

Jamie grabbed two bottles and turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

She Ran back to Ron and poured nettle wine on him. He woke up spluttering

"Wha, Wha."

"Shhh you have bruised ribs. Jamie ripped up half of her school robe and took off her tights. She bandaged his ribs as best she could, holding it in place with one leg of her tights and a small sticking charm from t_he standard book of spells grade 2. _When she finished, Ron sighed in relief"That feels a lot better thanks."

"Any time Ron."

"did you mean what you said?"

"course" she leaned over, gingerly hugged him, gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek, and helped him up.

"ON to Hermione" Jamie said

Hermione was awake when they got there she was practicing little spells with her wand.

"I figured I wouldn't have been much use with a broken ankle. Where's Harry?"

"He went ahead, now let me tie up your ankle and we'll fly out"

Hermione went pale at the word fly, but she steeled herself and nodded.

After once again doing her best, Jamie helped Hermione onto a broom and sat on the front. "You grab your own, k Ron"

"Roger that"

They flew up and met Dumbledore in the hallway outside. He's gone after him hasn't he?" Dumbledore asked before jumping down the trapdoor.

Jamie flew Hermione to the hospital wing, and when madam pomfery saw them she tsked."What happened now dears." She asked.

"Went after the stone to try save it," wheezed Ron through his bruised ribs

Madam Pomfery immediately put him on a bed. Jamie helped Hermione into the bed next to his.

"I'm fairly positive he just has some bruised ribs and a slight concussion Madam pomfery." She ran a diagnostic spell and it was confirmed.

"Which teacher helped you find out what happened and do his bandages Miss Potter?"

"I did it using my ripped up school robe, a leg of tights, and a mild sticking charm."

Madam Pomfery forgot what she was doing and stared at Jamie" you did this." She asked.

"Did I really do that bad of a job" Asked Jamie worriedly?

"No, in fact it's almost perfect, how did you know where to put the bandages and what did you use again."

"MY school robes, a leg of my tights and a mild sticking charm. I figured out what was wrong the same way everyone else does, I guess."

"What way."

"Were his aura was collecting."

"His what?"

"his aura." Jamie repeated. Did no one else call it that? It seemed very aura-like to Jamie.

"I don't know anything about auras Miss Potter." She undid the bandages and fixed his ribs in a trice.

"What about Miss Granger?"

"Slight concussion, not as bad as Ron's, and an ankle broken in, Jamie squinted at Hermione, Two spots, at the bottom and top of the part that sticks out."

Pomfery ran a diagnostic spell to confirm this, and everything was correct.

She mended Hermione and then ran a diagnostic spell on Jamie. Everything was fine, but Ron and Hermione had to stay overnight. It was late, Madam Pomfey forced back to her common room.

The next day was the qudditch game. Jamie ran down to the hospital wing to see if Harry was okay. Madam pomfery answered and said it was fine. Jamie passed her Ron and Hermione's clothes, and they came down to the quidditch game with her. Jamie caught the snitch and won the game!(A/N sorry not a fan of writing out qudditch games) two days later, harry woke up.

And the healer let Ron and Hermione in.

"Harry!"

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to — Dumbledore was so worried —"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumours.

Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Jamie, Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it? — 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you three?" said Harry.

"I bandaged them up, flew them here, and when we got up there, Dumbledore jumped into the trapdoor.

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did — I mean to say that's terrible — you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could…"

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course — you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you — but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT" she said firmly.

Hermione, Ron, and Jamie went to visit Hagrid. Hagrid gave Jamie a photo book with a white lily growing out of a beautiful clay pot embossed with a stag and a doe. The lily opened and closed and the stag and doe played and nuzzled each other, and Jamie noticed that there were two little fawns, a boy and a girl. Jamie opened it and it and it was filled with pictures of her parents. It was beautiful. At the end, there were empty pages for her own pictures. I made one for your brother too, same pictures and everything, but his cover is a bit more boyish."

Jamie hugged him so hard and she was crying and she told him just how much it meant to her. "It was all me fault anywa' I told hi'm. I put yeh in danger. Am sorry Jamie.

"It's alright Hagrid no harm done."

The Great Hall was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. It looked disgusting in Jamie's opinion.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts… (Jamie didn't think she'd have a problem with that)

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and two points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley…"

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house Thirty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second — to Miss Hermione Granger… for being brave about something she was terrified I award Gryffindor house thirty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Jamie strongly suspected she had burst into tears.

"To miss Jamie Potter, for quick thinking in the face of fire and doing her best to help her friends when they needed her, I award Gryffindor house forty points.

Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred points up.

"Third — to Mr. Harry Potter…" said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse, Like Jamie, knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points — exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup — if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him, Jamie first in line, saying how she was sorry and more sorry and more sorry. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Jamie knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry her. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Jamie's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… she would never, ever forget tonight.

Jamie had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To her great surprise, both harry and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years, Jamie in a close second only because of her Charms score, which she always had trouble with.

Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life. Jamie had laughed and laughed at that

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly, and Jamie agreed); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavour Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all of you — I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to."

"Promise, Ron."

People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

"Definitely not, more like infamous in the neighborhood."

Jamie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. "There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see —" Ginny looked nice, Jamie really wanted to be her friend.

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

Jamie had sent ahead a thank you note, but she thanked Mrs. Weasley again anyway."

"Ready, are you?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry. They didn't seem to have noticed the giant snake tied like a scarf around Jamie's neck, but they would soon.

"You, girl, you'll be sharing a room with him," Uncle Vernon said, jerking his head at harry." We need a place to put those blasted schoolbooks."

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Harry and Jamie hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have — er — a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, I will," said Jamie, Harry seemed to have the same idea, and they said together."They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…"

Acknowledgements. I only acknowledge people who review, so review your ***es off okay? Hermione falling off her broom; Classic. I love all my readers SEQUEL UP!


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